My house has a giant unfinished basement, which its previous residents obviously mistook for a landfill. It has accumulated an immense volume of belongings, only a very small percentage of which actually belongs to people who live there right now. I can’t count the number of times my roommates and
I have had scratched our heads in befuddlement when attempting to ascertain to whom an object in the house once belonged.
Among the remnants of other people’s lives collected in our basement are several projects created by architecture students, including a chair made out of cardboard shaped like a lowercase letter D and a strangely phallic yet indescribably ugly light fixture made of puke green paper stretched over metal and decorated with shiny purple hair-like accents.
When moving out, people usually remember to take the important stuff such as furniture, etc. When they are the only ones leaving a residence, however, people tend to assume the remaining roommates desperately want everything they don’t feel like packing. They idiotically assume their roommates have just been desperately lusting after their leftover condiments and broken lamps.
Honestly, I probably would not mind that previous residents left their stuff if it was useful, but people naturally take the stuff that has any kind of monetary or intrinsic value, leaving their ex-roommates (and their ex-roommates’ subsequent roommates) saddled with their junk mail and leftover condiments.
If acquaintances of anyone who knows a resident of my house decide to study abroad, it is very likely that my house will be saddled with their belongings until they return. Even when they get back, it’s incredibly unlikely that they will retrieve everything.
In addition to the big stuff, we also have countless boxes of random papers, crappy kitchen supplies, moldy clothing and many, many other items, the use of which will forever remain a mystery to me. One day, far in the future, an archaeologist is going to be very confused by our basement.
I wish I could pass the burden of all the junk on to someone else, but alas, the house will probably return to the rental company after I leave, which means my current roommates and I will be forced to dispose of everyone else’s unwanted possessions.
This is why I make a call to action for everyone leaving roommates behind. Take your stuff. All of it. If you want to leave anything behind, ask first. You may be surprised to learn that your roommates don’t share your affinity for immense quantities of capers or mayonnaise. Perhaps they’d like to purchase their own salad dressing in lieu of using all twenty of your 90 percent-used varieties. Maybe they have their own towels and clothing. Did you ever consider that they, perchance, don’t share your taste in medical mysteries written by Robin Cook?
Assigning the responsibility for the detritus of your existence to your roommates is ridiculous and unfair. You (I hope) didn’t make them clean up after you when you lived together, so what makes you think they’ll relish the opportunity when you leave? You didn’t want it, they don’t either. Throw it away or give it away. The basement is now closed.